The Phantom of Opera Software
by Risita
Summary: This AU story takes place at a software company in the 1980s. Christine is an entry level programmer bullied by dictatorial Carlotta, until...someone...starts advancing her career by force! EC but not fluff,with plenty of nerd humor. Complete and REVISED!
1. She Blinded Me With Science

**Chapter 1: (S)he Blinded Me With Science  
**

A/N: All eight chapters of this story have been revised in the following ways:   
1) More character descriptions, mainly physical ones.  
2) Filled in some plot holes, especially the FBI agent's story.  
3) Fixed a few grammatical errors and made it "sound" better.

**--------June 1985--------  
**

In the break room of the Opera Computing office, the company's two youngest employees sat eating peanut M&M's and griping about work.

"Omigod, I hate my job! This is the most boring company ever! Nothing exciting ever happens here!" twenty-year-old Christine, a recently hired programmer, whined.

"Mine is too, tell me about it!" eighteen-year-old Meg, the assistant office manager, reciprocated. "And it's all because of my stupid mom. She practically _made _me work here so she could keep an eye on me and make me do something _useful. _Says she doesn't want me running off with my artistic friends, calls them bums." She sighed. "I bet I could really write something meaningful, if I could sit down to it without these mountains of paperwork frying my brain." Meg shoved three M&M's in her mouth in frustration.

"Well, someday you'll get your first book published, and then you'll show her. As soon as you can find a good topic to write about..." An uncomfortable silence followed, so Christine changed the subject: "Well, we both know who we can blame for my computer slavery!" They both rolled their eyes and laughed. Christine was referring to Carlotta Guo, Opera Computing's lead software designer. Imported from the most prestigious mathematics and computer science university in China, Carlotta put herself in charge of every aspect of every project. She had no patience for people who contradicted her ideas with their "inferior" qualifications. The other programmers were reduced to mindlessly coding her designs—especially Christine, the most junior programmer and a college dropout.

Both Christine and Meg could be considered pretty, but in different ways. Meg accented her tall, boyish figure with as many creative touches as her mother would let her wear to her "serious job." Today she had on a pink vest with flower decals she had added herself, balanced with a white blouse and black pleated skirt to appease her mother. Her straight brown hair had two tiny braids in front, decorated with at least five barrettes. She tried to detract from her pale skin and freckles with pink blush and lipstick.

On the other hand, Christine's naturally even skin, wavy light-blonde hair, and classic hourglass figure shone through her almost complete inattention to beauty. She generally wore no makeup and rather boring outfits. Christine was as interested in attracting young men as Meg was, but neither girl saw any possibilities among the geeky programmers they worked with. Meg bothered about her appearance only as an outlet for her self-described "repressed creativity."

Arnav, one of Opera's two presidents, ran into the break room excitedly. "Ladies, ladies, great news!" he panted. "Chavez Conglomerate's selected us as one of only _two_ bidders for their big contract! They've decided to go electronic, and we could be writing their entirefinancial software system—from scratch!" He rubbed his hands together. "Can you imagine the profit, girls? We could double the size of the company--move into a nicer building--maybe even go public someday..." He rambled on about the various benefits that the Chavez money would bring, until Christine interrupted him with the burning question she had formed:

"Do you mean _the _Chavez Conglomerate, with Esteban Chavez?"

"Why, yes," Arnav replied, surprised that Christine knew about their prospective client and its CEO. "Mr. Chavez isn't coming to the presentation next week, though. He's sending the vice president instead – his brother Raul, I believe."

"Thank you _so_ much!" Christine gushed, as Arnav shrugged and left the room. She turned to her friend. "Oh, Meg, something exciting is finally happening! Raul Chavez—he's my old friend, from when I was a little girl. I haven't seen him since were about fourteen, when he left for some preppy boarding school out East, but from what I remember he was _really _cute. I can't wait to see him. I hope he's single!"

"Yeah, if they let you go to the presentation," Meg said bitterly. "I bet Queen Carlotta thinks lowly peons like us will mess it up without even talking."

Christine couldn't help feeling nervous about this possibility. Thoughts of Raul churned through her head as she stared at the scrolling monochrome text on her computer terminal, especially during the long days that followed. Besides her coding for the usual ongoing projects, she had to word-process some documentation for the upcoming presentation and deal with Carlotta's irritable bossiness about this task.

It certainly didn't help Carlotta's disposition when her computer crashed the day before the big event, causing her to lose the document she was word-processing. She hit her computer and cursed in Chinese, but upon rebooting the machine, she found a far greater inconvenience than the loss of a single document. Every file associated with the Chavez contracts, from her detailed software layouts to her speaking notes, was gone. They had not been corrupted or made unreadable--they had simply vanished. Furthermore, the floppy disk in the drive, which contained some of the other programmers' contributions, had been erased and formatted. Weirdest of all, not one non-Chavez-related file had been affected.

This seemed impossible to Carlotta. She guarded her computer with hawkish obsession and never allowed anyone else to touch it. She refused to connect it to the phone line; she commandeered someone else's computer when she wanted to use a bulletin board or file server. There was absolutely no way for a virus to infect her precious box. Frustrated and flabbergasted, she screamed out a shrill "Whaaaaat?" For a tiny five-foot woman, her voice could carry.

Opera Computing's co-presidents, Arnav and Frank, frantically ran in to assist their star programmer; Christine listened from the next room, amused at her slave-driver's misfortune. Frank, the more level-headed president, began to explain that computers are not perfect and that "these things do happen," but Arnav butted in with another explanation: "Miss Guo, you must know our situation with this unfortunate building. We had to buy the cheapest we could find, being a poor startup, but this building was cheap for a reason! I believe that a ghost lurks in here, and he interferes with our operations because he delights in causing us misery. But please, please, do not worry! When we are paid from this contract, we will relocate to a beautiful new office and you will never be bothered again!"

"Whatever," Frank said dismissively, "but Carlotta, please redo these documents for us! My shining star...you have done so much for all of us..."

But Carlotta was livid. "No!" she yelled. "Until you do something about problem with ghost, I not help you! I go home now – and you see if I come tomorrow!" She grabbed her designer purse and stormed out, muttering under her breath. They heard her high heels clanking angrily on the floor all the way to the parking lot.

"We must now say goodbye to all our hopes and dreams, and all that money," Arnav sighed dramatically. "What will we tell Mr. Chavez? There's no choice but to cancel!"

The head office manager, Mrs. Adele Grant, who had recently walked into the room, said, "What about Christine? She might be able to handle it."

Frank laughed. "What, a college dropout? All she knows how to do is what Carlotta tells her to. She'll just embarrass us in front of all those bigwigs!"

But Mrs. Grant pressed the point further. "Please sir, just let her prepare some material and show it to you. She's had more training than you think. If you don't like it, I promise, we can cancel the presentation." As Christine had no other tasks that couldn't be postponed for a day, Frank grudgingly agreed. He called Christine in to tell her of the daunting task she would have to carry out.

Opera Computing occupied one building in a clump of offices and labs near the downscale industrial part of the Southern California town. Some of its neighbors were home to other struggling tech startups and had fresh paint and fixtures, but others were abandoned and decaying. Only the faded letters on some of the abandoned buildings, _Dulce Hogar Federal Research Facility, _indicated what the place had once been.

**--------1965---------**

Years before tourists and tech companies filled the area to the brim, the Dulce Hogar Federal Research Facility stood alone within miles of unoccupied land. The government took every precaution that their Cold War foes would not find out about the weapons being developed there, from the isolated location to the tight security ensuring every coming and going was documented.

The researchers lived with their wives in modest houses adjoining the research buildings. There were few children—who would want to raise a child so far from society?—but a small school served those who did live there. The smaller children were oblivious to their isolated environment, as long as they had toys and a couple of playmates. The teenagers were much less content, but they did their best to create some semblance of social lives. Instead of the typical going into town, they watched TV and played cards at each other's houses. Friendships, and even some romances, bloomed in the desert.

Yet one young boy participated in none of this. None of the other youngsters knew what the skinny teenager with unruly dark hair was doing on the compound. He did not go to school, but worked at the labs with his peers' parents. When he talked at all, which was seldom, he spoke with a thick Eastern European accent. This raised speculation that his parents might be Russian defectors, although no one actually saw them. The boy was in fact Soviet, but had no parents at all. His mother and father, both Soviet agents, had been captured and executed as spies. The United States government had prepared to deport him back to Russia, but after discovering that he was a mathematical and scientific genius, decided to keep him in America and see if they could put him to use.

After an intense period of indoctrination, the boy agreed to take an American name, adopt American values, and help the Americans with their weapons research. At the age of thirteen, Erik, as he now was called, came to live and work at Dulce Hogar.


	2. I Am the Warrior

**Chapter 2: I Am the Warrior  
**

A/N: Yes, I know that the plot device of waking up and finding a mysterious message on one's computer screen is in _The Matrix. _But really, what computer hacker story these days _doesn't _borrow elements from that movie?

**------1966------**

Erik had lived at Dulce Hogar for more than a year when he was first allowed to see a prototype. Until this point he'd been solving equations on paper and feeding punch cards into the computer, aware that he was contributing something toward "national defense" but never seeing the actual weapons he was helping to design. Then his supervisor decided that he was mature enough to see the product of his work.

Erik had never been told about Mutually Assured Destruction or the meaning of the "cold" in Cold War. Instead he thought his new countrymen were preparing to launch the missiles he saw at Russia, and imagined them killing his relatives and friends. He knew that he'd been sent to Dulce Hogar for his superior intelligence—greater than many of the researchers there—and resolved to use that intelligence to destroy the prototype and thwart the plans.

Intimately connected as he was with the design of the weapon, figuring out how to get rid of it was the easy part. The hard part was destroying this highly volatile missile without killing himself or his co-workers. Erik decided to program the computer to begin the destruction sequence at a time when no one was in the building. He hid in one of the underground tunnels that had been built for the most secret research, until the computer was unguarded. The punch cards he had made contained a program to blow up the missile at 3:00 the next morning.

Yet something went wrong. In 1966 there were no code simulators, compiler warnings, or integrated debuggers. Nor were there safety nets in the programming languages themselves. You found out that your program had a bug when it ran and produced the wrong output...and Erik found his bug when the weapon exploded early! The force reduced the computer and the lab equipment to scrap metal. Erik, who was not yet out the door, should have been killed but somehow survived. Most of his body, however, was burned or pierced by shrapnel. His face took more damage than any other part.

**-----June 1985-----  
**

At the first bidder for the Chavez Conglomerate's contract, Raul had sat on a plush ergonomic chair at an upscale mahogany conference table, while the presenter had communicated his ideas on a raised stage with a state-of-the-art sound system. At Opera Computing, he sat in the front row of a grid of miscellaneous office chairs, facing a bare slide projector. Yet Opera's presentation left Raul with no doubt as to which company he would recommend for the contract. He had never seen such amazing insight and innovation! Each aspect of the presentation looked like the product of weeks of thought.

Raul congratulated a receptive Arnav and Frank on their company's success, adding: "By the way, who was the young lady doing the main technical presentation? She somehow looks familiar to me."

Frank tried to suppress his astonishment and sputtered, "That's Christine, one of our—distinguished young—software engineers." Carlotta, who had decided to show up after all and watch the anticipated "disaster" unfold, sneered.

Raul smiled, realizing where he'd known her from. "Well, Christine, I'd like to talk with you for a moment after we're done."

They met outside in the parking lot and immediately began chatting like old friends. "Look at you, Christine, all grown up, with a real job—and more beautiful than ever!" Raul gushed after a few minutes.

"Oh, Raul, you too! I was so worried that after going to Exeter and Yale, you'd come back some—oh, I don't know, some strange and different person, but no, it's the same old you! The same old sweet, charming, Raul!" She felt deliriously happy.

Raul took Christine's hand. "Christine, dear, how would you like to go out for dinner tonight, my treat? We can catch up on old times much more there."

Christine's face became pained. "I'm sorry, Raul, but I can't," she muttered in a lower tone. "I have to be at my programming lesson..." her voice trailed off.

"A programming lesson? After work? Darling, you work much too hard. Why don't you take a break for one evening and have dinner with me? I know of a wonderful Chinese restaurant."

"I'd love to, but—but—if I miss my programming lesson, my teacher will be very upset." As Christine said these words, she acquired a faraway, almost hypnotized look, and Raul resigned to try again the next time he was in town. He ate dinner with the other Chavez representatives at the hotel restaurant, and returned to New York on the 12:30 AM redeye flight.

He thought about Christine the entire time, wondering what she was doing. He wasn't around to notice that she would not return home that night.

**-----March 1985-----  
**

After only a week at Opera Computing, Christine was already spending her first evening at the office. Queen Carlotta assumed that her underlings were perfect robots who could make all their programs work the first time without any debugging, and assigned deadlines accordingly. At 11 PM, Christine was still trying to find exactly where she had made changes within a certain 10,000-line file, when she dozed off on her desk. At 11:15 PM, she woke to find her screen black except for a message:

_Are you lost?_

Confused and a little woozy, Christine instinctively muttered a tentative "Yes?"

A graphic of a map slowly materialized on the screen. Christine recognized it as a map of the Opera Computing office, with details as minute as the motivational posters in each room. She also noticed that the map was recent; her musical stuffed monkey, which she had brought to the office that afternoon, was there. The text _Go Here _was placed above the end of a hidden hallway that she had never noticed before. Intrigued, she went, and found a desk with an old-looking computer. As Christine sat down in the chair and pressed the computer's ON button, she heard a deep and melodious voice with a slight, impossible-to-place foreign accent. The voice came from the computer's speakers, even though this seemed impossible since she hadn't run any programs:

"Then I will help you find yourself."

Christine thought about her life so far. She had entered college knowing nothing about her interests, and taken a bit of everything to try to find them. She had made A's in all her science classes, but the droning professors had made them dull and lifeless. The humanities classes had been much more promising, but soon they'd become nearly impossible for her. Self-esteem shot, Christine had dropped out and searched for any job that didn't pay minimum wage. The computer science class that made her eligible for the Opera Computing job had been horribly boring, but she went for it because it was a living. Now her workday was every bit as tedious as she'd feared, and her social life was nonexistent because she lived more than an hour away from her old friends. Christine's life seemed unbearably empty, and she would turn to anyone--even this mysterious stranger--to help fill it again.

**-----June 1985-----  
**

After everyone else had left, Christine prepared once again for her programming lesson. In the past three months, she had begun to think of programming as less of a boring way to pay the bills and more as an art worth practicing for its own sake. She was helped along by the soft waves of her tutor's voice, and her imaginings of what he might look like in person. She had even concocted a picture of him in her mind: tan skin, wavy brown hair, kindly coffee-colored eyes. A lot like Raul looked, in fact.

The mysterious tutor began: "You have done well today, Christine. I am proud of you." He always spoke a bit formally, as if he'd learned English in school. "You are coming closer to truly understanding what good software design is."

"Thanks," Christine giggled, blushing. "Um, what are we talking about today?"

He continued his train of thought, ignoring her question. "Yes, you have progressed rapidly; and so, I believe you are ready. You will not learn about programming today. Instead, you will learn who I, your tutor, am...and why I have chosen to share my knowledge with you."

Christine gasped in surprise and her heart pounded with nervousness. She stared as the wall panel containing the computer swung forward mechanically, revealing another dark hallway. She looked forward, expecting to see the face of her mysterious teacher—but she saw nothing but the walls. Then she felt a slight tug at her knees, and looked down.


	3. Eyes Without a Face

**Chapter 3: Eyes Without a Face  
**

**A/N:** This is the last chapter to be so much like the play/movie. Big deviations begin next chapter, and by the time the story ends, you won't even recognize the original!

**-----June 1985-----  
**

Christine looked down to find a small robot tugging on her skirt. It was shaped and moved like a cat, but was made entirely of metal with a few wayward wires sticking out. The robot cat trained its mechanical eyes on Christine, beeped, and started walking down the hall with a turn of its head. Christine followed behind it.

Woman and machine reached the end of the hall and descended a flight of stairs, turning right into a hallway similar to the first. Christine found her way in the pitch-black darkness by the feel of the wall and the sound of the robot's creaking metal joints. Sometimes her hands ran across locked metal doors. Everything smelled musty, as if no one had cleaned in years.

Ten minutes and three flights of stairs later, Christine faced the open space of a low-ceilinged room. At one end, more than a dozen computers in various states of disassembly sat on tables. Multicolored wires ran from some of the more functional-looking ones and into the walls. On the other end was a rough workbench covered with wires, pieces of scrap metal, and some electrical-looking components that Christine didn't recognize. Books lay in disorganized piles throughout the room, mostly technical manuals but a few history books and novels. A cot was wedged in one corner; in another was a red floor-to-ceiling curtain that appeared to be the only new item in the room. In the center, a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling provided the only dim light. It lit a faded sofa, where a man sat reading a book.

Christine looked at him. He wore a black coat over a button-down shirt. Between the long bangs of his unkempt dark hair and the scarf that covered most of his face, only his eyes showed. Even without the rest of the face, the eyes alone were striking; the blue disks glowed with intensity.

The man looked up as the robot cat beeped again and walked toward him. He put down the book on seeing Christine, but said nothing. His eyes seemed to form a smiling expression as he motioned her over.

Christine, nervously riveted in place, sputtered: "Where am I? Are you my—the one who's been giving me the programming lessons?"

"Yes, I am the one who have been teaching you," he affirmed, and Christine recognized the familiar voice. "Perhaps you would like to know why.

"My name is Erik, and I have been living here for much time—nearly two decades, in fact. Although I have never been a highly social person, my seclusion here is not my choice, but a matter of necessity. I cannot yet tell you the reason; know only that if I return to the outside world, I will die.

"My life here has been lonely, with no companions other than the ones I have created myself." He picked up the robot cat and stroked it as if it were a real pet. "I have filled my time with the study of technology, and developed a new system of computing that I believe to be more effective than any in use today." He sighed. "Yet I have no way to share this with the world, and that is why I need you. When my knowledge is combined with your extroversion, your spirit, and your knowledge of the modern world, we will create something truly great."

Christine moved closer but did not sit down. "But why me, and not someone more talented, like Carlotta? And there were plenty of other companies here before us. Why not someone from there?"

Erik didn't answer. Instead he stood up and suggested, "Come, let me show you around my home." Gently he took Christine's hand and led her across the room. She felt a nervous shiver at the contact.

They stopped near the computer collection. Erik began explaining what he used each of the machines for and why he had taken some of them apart, but Christine wasn't listening. Instead she examined him. Why did he cover his face? What was there to hide? Seeing that Christine was focused on him but misinterpreting her thoughts, he turned to face her. He took both her hands in his and subtly caressed them. Christine was surprised, but realized that she didn't want to pull away, so she went along with the moment. The two programmers stared into each other's eyes, Christine's breath rapid and shallow and her companion's calm and focused. Their faces moved closer together, inches away from a kiss.

Christine's heart raced. Could it really be true? Could her mysterious teacher be the romantic hero she had secretly hoped for? Was his face handsome under that covering? Erik broke his gaze and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You see, Christine, this is why I chose you. It is more than just my technical knowledge that I wish to share with others. I see all that goes on in the offices above, and for a long time, I have been watching you..."

These words startled Christine. Everything she'd heard about stalkers flashed in her mind, from her mother's "Never go anywhere with a stranger" to those scary news reports on her college campus. Now here she was, in an isolated place, alone with a man she barely knew. He could be some sort of murderer! He could kill her without anyone knowing! Christine broke free of Erik's grasp and ran toward the door before realizing it was useless. She had no idea how to find her way back to the office in the dark. Panicked and hyperventilating, she saw the concrete floor spin as she blacked out.

Christine woke up, alive and unharmed, on an elegant but secondhand-looking brass bed. A red curtain separated her from the rest of reality. She pulled it back and recognized the strange room that she had seen the night before. She struggled to remember who else had been there, but recognized Erik when she saw him at the workbench. He was busy placing wires on a circuit board.

From her spot on the bed, Christine could now consider him more calmly. She could now be fairly certain that his intentions were not to murder her. Yet what did he want with her, again? Something about sharing? She struggled to recall what he had said the night before, then remembered the strangest part of him: the hidden face! How could she know who her tutor truly was with that scarf covering his face?

Christine tiptoed over to Erik's workbench, hoping that his face wasn't covered but seeing the contrary. Overcome with curiosity and still somewhat groggy, she playfully reached over to feel the scarf—and ended up pushing it off.

Erik turned around with a guilty look, and Christine could see why. His face was discolored, misshapen, and twisted in impossible-seeming ways. She tried to hide her feeling of disgust, but instinctively let out an "Ugggh!" and turned her face away.

Immediately his expression changed to one of anger. "Disgusted, are you? When you were the one who wanted to see it in the first place! Yes, disgusted, after all that happened last night!" Christine opened her mouth to speak, but Erik waved her away. "Now I know what kind of woman you are. You are the disgusting one, you hussy, you--" and an unintelligible foreign word followed. He looked around, deciding what to do with her, and settled on "Get out of my sight! Go! Anya will show you the way!" He pressed a few buttons on a control panel and set the robotic cat down roughly, nearly breaking its joints.

Christine took the day off from work without bothering to call in. She lay on her bed in a daze all afternoon, confused and miserable. She hoped someone would call and break the silence, but no one did.

Mrs. Valerius, the retired widow in whose house Christine was renting a room, did not notice that her boarder had never come home that night. She went to bed at nine PM and woke up at six to take her morning walk, eat breakfast at a cafe, and then go to her beauty parlor appointment. By the time she returned, Christine's door was already locked.

Carlotta told everyone that Christine was probably being lazy "as usual" and skipping work to go to the beach. When the lead designer turned on her computer, she found a message typed on the screen: "You should begin looking for a new place of employment, as Christine will soon be taking your place." Carlotta assumed that Christine herself had somehow found her password, snuck on her computer and written the message. She acted indignant all day that _anyone_, even someone as insignificant as Christine, would even try to challenge her superiority.

Arnav and Frank were so proud of Christine's presentation that they let her have the day off without protest. They found messages like Carlotta's on their computers; theirs stated that they should find a temporary replacement for Christine, who might not return for some time. In spite of Christine's absence, they didn't take the messages seriously. They knew that Carlotta would be jealous after Christine's shining presentation, and assumed that she had planted the messages. The two employers were so in awe of Carlotta's programming skills that they never questioned her ability to hack their computers.

Meg overheard Arnav and Frank discuss the matter, and tried to convince them that the ghost haunting their office was to blame. "Maybe the ghost has Christine! She might be in danger!" she insisted, but Arnav and Frank didn't listen. They considered Meg a flighty airhead whom they'd hired only after the urgings of her highly productive mother.

Raul might have been more successful if he had been there, but he was occupied with his business meeting in New York.

**-----1966-----**

After the explosion, Erik was so delirious with pain that he did not know what was happening to him. He only knew that he woke up on a mattress in one of the underground corridors which he had often explored. Beside him was a bag with food from the cafeteria, and a type-written note:

_I don't know who you are, but I want to help you. I found you by the computer on the night of the explosion. It was a good thing I got there before most of the others. You almost died, but I think you'll survive now. I've taken care of your injuries the best that I could.  
_

_The higher-ups know you did it, but they think you're dead. Show your face and you will be. They'll execute you for treason. Military tribunal with no lawyer, no rights and no leniency on account of your age. I'll bring you food and necessities and leave them here until I can figure out how you can get them yourself. _

_Don't worry, you won't have to stay down here for long. Someone informed the press about the explosion, and there's a big investigation. They'll probably be closing down the facility soon, and when it's all abandoned, you can leave._

_Good luck—I know you'll make it._

There was no signature.


	4. Another One Bites the Dust

**Chapter 4: Another One Bites the Dust  
**

**-----June 1985-----  
**

Adele and Meg Grant were leaving Opera Computing at the end of the day when they saw Joe Buquet, the night janitor, cleaning the windows. "Hey, had any ghost sightings lately?" he called out.

"Oh, yeah!" Meg squealed. "Just last week, the ghost made these weird messages appear on the bosses' computers. They said—"

Her mother cut her off. "Meg, you're too old to be making up stories. You and I both know that Carlotta wrote those messages." Meg rolled her eyes. She hated how no one took her opinions seriously, even her mother. She was eighteen, a grown woman—why did everyone treat her like a child?

Once out of Joe's hearing range, Mrs. Grant added: "And don't go around talking to lowlifes like that janitor."

**-----1983-----**

"We'd like to file a complaint about the custodian you have cleaning our office. He is rude to our employees—"

"He looks messy and unprofessional—"

"And he doesn't even clean very well!"

The fat man behind the desk in the Leasing Office leafed through a few papers and looked back up at Arnav and Frank. "Oh yeah, Opera Computing, right? Custodian by the name of Joe Buquet?" He sat up in his chair and leaned in toward the two men. "I ain't at liberty to tell you why, but I can't fire him. There's no way. He was there when we first bought this building seventeen years ago, and I tried to get rid of him every chance I could get. But he ain't just a janitor...he's something else."

**-----June 1985----  
**

Joe made up for his shoddy cleaning with the meticulousness in which he carried out his security duties. He double-checked that every entrance and exit was set with the heavy-duty alarms he had made himself. These alarms were not only immune to breaking by force, but also relied on a purely mechanical system that no computer could disable. Safeguards in place, he went to explore the tunnels beneath the office. Every night, he had become lost in the labyrinth of tunnels, barely finding his way above ground before the break of dawn. Yet every night he had descended the stairs with the hope that _this _time, he would find the fugitive that he knew lived somewhere below.

Meanwhile, Christine sat at Mrs. Valerius's kitchen table writing a letter. The doorbell rang, and since her landlady was upstairs watching a cooking show, she answered it. "Oh! Raul! It's so nice to see you!" she exclaimed as they entered into a tentative hug. "Here, come in. Let me introduce you to Mrs. Valerius."

Raul waved her away. "I'm only stopping by to see you on the way to my hotel. I'm here in town for the User Interface design review tomorrow, you know. But maybe afterwards, we can go out somewhere—if you can possibly skip your dear programming lesson," he chuckled.

"Oh, I'd love to, Raul! We have so much to catch up on! I think I can get out of those lessons this time."

Yet Raul's attention had gone from her to the letter on the table. "What's this, a letter?" He picked it up with a grin, expecting something humorous, and read: "'Dear Erik, I am grateful for the time we've had together, and enjoyed every moment of it, but'...and then the rest is unfinished. Christine, why didn't you tell me you have a boyfriend? You didn't have to worry about hurting my feelings, you know..."

Christine looked pained. "He's not my boyfriend, Raul. I don't really know what to call him." She proceeded to explain to him the programming lessons and the visit to Erik's home two weeks before, leaving out their near-kiss.

"He sounds like such a creep, Christine!" Raul sympathized. "I feel so bad for you, having to deal with someone like that. I'll tell you what—tomorrow evening, after work, I'll take you to the nicest steakhouse in town. You deserve a break from all this."

At the office the next morning, the two presidents of Opera Computing stared at their printer in disbelief. "This is beginning to not make sense, Frank," Arnav said.

Frank stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well, let's consider our options. Christine could never have pulled off a technical stunt like this. The same goes for all the other programmers, except maybe Carlotta, but why would she have a message printed out saying that _her_ design shouldn't be used for the review?"

"That's why I tell you there truly could be a ghost! We have no other explanation. Ever since the message from Carlotta, we have been logging all commands typed at our computers, and _there has been nothing! _These computers have _not_ been touched since we left yesterday."

"You're right, this _is_ strange. Still, just because someone is sending us messages, doesn't mean we have to listen."

Arnav was not reassured. "Christine has developed an alternative design, right? Have you seen it?"

"Yes, and it's much too risk-taking and unusual for a contract this important. Even if it weren't, _we _run this company, not some anonymous message-sender! Carlotta will present her User Interface design today just as planned, and we'll see what kind of 'disaster beyond our imagination' we have. What could possibly happen at a simple slide show?"

Indeed, Carlotta's discussion of the User Interface design began perfectly. The lead designer gained enough confidence after the first four or five slides to recite her presentation without looking at the projector. For this reason, she didn't understand why the sixth slide caused the entire audience to burst out laughing.

Carlotta looked down at the slide. Half of the presentation text was replaced with a caricature of herself, wearing ridiculously extravagant queen's robes and beating scared-looking subjects with a scepter. She quickly put on the next slide, but every one of them had half its text replaced with a different drawing. One showed Carlotta as a Nazi making the "Heil Hitler" gesture; another depicted her as a cackling witch stirring a cauldron. Turning furiously towards Arnav and Frank, she screamed, "You...said...no...more...ghost!"

Frank tried to placate the crowd and blustered, "Please reconvene in—an hour, when an alternative design for the User Interface will be presented by—one of our—new talents." He looked imploringly at Christine.

Raul led the audience out of the conference room. As he opened the door, he saw the dead body of Joe Buquet hanging from the door frame. When they took the body down to examine it, the first thing Raul noticed was the official FBI identification Joe carried in his shirt pocket.


	5. The Boys of Summer

**Chapter 5: The Boys of Summer  
**

**-----June 1985-----  
**

Christine and Raul forgot about their steakhouse date after they saw the dead janitor hanging from the door frame. Instead they sat sprawled on Raul's hotel room bed, shoving Chinese food in their mouths without relishing it. Every few minutes, Christine began sobbing, and Raul rushed to comfort her in his arms. He had to repeat the same sentences over and over: "Christine, baby, I'm sure it was an accident. It couldn't have been Erik. You're completely safe."

Stuffed and exhausted, Christine fell asleep with tears in her eyes and a fortune cookie still in her hands. The fortune read, "A fascinating romance, new yet old, will soon begin." Raul lay down on the other side of the bed, as courteously far away from her as he could.

In the middle of the night, Christine rolled over toward Raul and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He unconsciously brought his arms around her, and they slept that way for the rest of the night.

Raul woke up before six A.M. to catch his flight. Christine tugged on his pajamas, pulling him back. "Wait—when will we see each other again? Next design review, right?"

His face turned solemn. "Christine, there's something I have to tell you. I didn't want to say anything last night because you were so upset already." He took a deep breath. "Our company is backing out of the contract. We've decided there are too many...safety issues. I tried to argue on your side, but the others won out." Christine burst into tears again. Raul continued: "But don't worry. I still want to see _you_, and I'll take some time off to visit as soon as I can. I hope you can come see me in New York, too."

Christine drifted back to sleep peacefully, thinking that in spite of all the bad things that were happening, at least she had her fascinating romance.

**-----September 1985-----  
**

A dark-haired young couple, decked out in designer clothes, paraded down the Manhattan sidewalk holding hands. They were Raul Chavez, vice president of Chavez Conglomerate, and Elena Dominguez, his brother's wife's cousin. Esteban and his wife had set them up, and Raul had agreed only on a whim. Elena was beautiful, witty, and sweet-natured, but Raul knew he could never fall in love with her. He had already fallen in love with his childhood friend Christine, far away in California.

Raul called Christine whenever he could, but with his packed schedule it was never more than once a week. They rarely found much to talk about, so sometimes they would just say how much they loved and missed each other. Even so, simply hearing Christine's sweet high-pitched voice was enough for Raul. He tried fervently to arrange a long weekend to see her in California, but it was impossible; he was working twelve-hour days already. The hopelessly incompetent new contractors for the computer system were responsible for much of this overtime.

What kept Raul going was the one week he was guaranteed to have off: the week of Christmas! He had already made airplane and hotel reservations to spend the entire week in California, and sometimes stared at his plane tickets just to remind him of Christine.

Christine's life, meanwhile, was full of surprises. When Joe Buquet had died, the police investigation had attributed it to an accidental fall while cleaning the air ducts. After that, everyone at Opera Computing thought his case was closed. They were all very surprised when two plainclothesmen with FBI identification showed up and began asking questions about him. Even more strangely, not all of their questions were about Joe himself. "Does anyone regularly occupy this building besides your company's employees? Have you ever found anyone living here? Have you seen any furniture or articles indicating someone might live here?" Christine was about to tell the agents about Erik, when Mrs. Grant pulled her aside and surreptitiously signaled her not to. No one else responded positively.

Afterwards, Christine asked Mrs. Grant why she had pulled her back. Mrs. Grant insisted they talk in her car, where no one could "listen in" on them, then began: "Do you know what this place was, before Opera Computing was here?"

"Some kind of government research place, right? You can still see the signs on the door."

"Yes, and they made terrible things. I can't say exactly what because it's still classified. My poor departed husband was a physicist there in the '60's." She looked around outside. "The place was in the middle of nowhere back then. Very secretive. Anyway, there was a very young Russian boy who worked there. He was all alone; we all felt so bad for him..." and she told the story of the explosion.

"I don't understand—how did he survive after that?"

"He survived because I took care of him. I led him down into the basement, dressed his wounds as best I could, and brought him food for a while." She leaned in earnestly toward Christine. "Dear, I know you must think he's evil because he's hiding from the government, but think about it. He was only a boy trying to save his family. He's a good person at heart." She laughed. "Insane at times, but good."

"Then what about Joe Buquet? So he didn't kill him?"

"No one knows for sure, Christine dear, but my guess is he did. Yet that doesn't make him a murderer. Everyone knows now that Joe Buquet was really an undercover agent, but what they don't know is, his mission was to track down Erik. He was put on the case after the electric bills showed that someone was running appliances down there, even when the buildings were completely abandoned. His bosses wanted to close the case years ago, but he became very obsessed and refused to give up. Twenty years and he never succeeded!" She giggled again. "I'm guessing that Buquet finally got lucky and found him. It was self defense. Erik had to kill him, or he himself would be executed within days." Christine looked aghast at Mrs. Grant's nonchalance, so the lady went on: "Tell me, how have you run into Erik?"

"Please don't tell this to the bosses or especially Carlotta, but he was giving me programming lessons for a while...then one day, he took me down into his house and...like...sort of tried to make a pass at me. It was really weird."

Mrs. Grant gasped and muttered to herself: "He must be so lonely...of course he would try to find someone eventually." Then to Christine: "I'm so happy for you, dear. What an incredible man! What a privilege for you to be singled out by him."

Christine made a face of disgust. "Oh my god, how could you say that, Mrs. Grant? Besides being a killer and all that, he's hideous!"

Mrs. Grant shook her head. "Appearances mean nothing in the end. Just look at my husband." She pulled from her purse a wrinkled photograph of a goofy-faced man with a bow-tie and a terrible comb-over: the classic physicist look. "Yet we had the happiest marriage I could ever imagine."

"Well...I've already got someone..."

"Yes, I know you're wrapped up with Raul, but ask yourself this: If Erik was handsome like him, who would you choose?"

The FBI agents stayed for the next two days and scoured the highest and outermost tunnels for signs of their fugitive. They failed to find the rest of the tunnel network or come anywhere near Erik's home. Finally they decided he must have escaped during the past three months, and went to continue their search elsewhere.

The day after the agents left, Christine received her first communication from Erik in more than two months. She had previously avoided his programming lessons and pulled the power cord when he started his computer tricks, but she couldn't ignore this attempt: a package. Inside was a bundle of floppy disks. They were not a virus as she feared; they were a computer game that she had thought about buying. There were even disks with "bonus levels not included in the commercial version." Christine tried the game on her lunch break and it worked perfectly.

The package also contained a note: "To my angel and someday companion, from your ghost."

Every few days after that, Christine received another package from Erik. There were two more computer games, both with extra bonus levels like the first. There were also some electro-mechanical toys that moved with tiny motors. None of the presents had any practical use beyond making her smile, but each one accomplished that purpose. Each package also contained a progressively longer note, usually containing speculation about computers but always filled with affection. Christine almost forgot that the adoring admirer who sent her these gifts was actually the "hideous" weirdo living in the basement.

She remembered in a hurry after the final gift arrived. It was a huge box, and opened to contain a smaller replica of Erik's robotic cat. It contained only a short note: "I want to apologize for my reaction the last time we met. I understand how you would be shocked on seeing my face. At the same time, I truly want to see you again. This cat does not have all the abilities that my Anya does. She is programmed only to lead the way from this office to my home and back. Use her when you are ready to see me. I will send you no more gift packages after this. Instead, come to me, and we shall give each other the greatest gift possible!"

Christine was no longer disgusted when she thought of seeing Erik again; instead, she was too nervous of the unknown. She put the visit off longer and longer, using Raul as her excuse to herself.

**-----November 1985-----  
**

Christine put down the phone after a long argument with Raul. She missed him and wanted to spend Thanksgiving with him. He insisted that he was too busy to come to California, and strangely refused to let her visit him in New York. All of a sudden he said a hasty goodbye and threw his phone down.

Christine was surprised at Raul, who almost never became angry. In fact, Raul had put the phone down because Elena had knocked on the door. They were both at his brother Esteban's apartment for dinner, and dessert was ready.

Christine couldn't yell at Raul about this dalliance; she was thousands of miles away and didn't know it was happening. So she turned to the escape route that angry lovers often use: getting back at Mr. Evil by going out with another guy. Her anger overpowered her nervousness as she decided the time had finally come. She took the rusting mechanical cat from its shelf, drove back to work, and prepared to descend again into the dark corridors of the former Dulce Hogar Federal Research Facility.


	6. Don't You Forget About Me

**Chapter 6: Don't You Forget About Me  
**

**-----November 1985-----  
**

Once again, Christine followed Anya the mechanical cat—the full version last time, the miniature this time—into the deepest basements of the office building. She did not feel scared the way she had in June, partially because she knew what to expect and partially because the long fight with Raul had numbed her emotions.

Erik was waiting for her, once again with a scarf around his face. He was not at the computers or the workbench, but at a table preparing food. As Christine came closer, she saw that the food was in fact two sandwiches. "I am sorry, my dear, but living alone from a young age does not provide much incentive to learn to cook." His tone became more serious. "Welcome back, Christine. I was not sure that you would come, and I am glad you have. Please, sit down." He offered her a sandwich as they sat down on the couch.

He began speaking immediately. "I need your help more than ever now. The time is right to finally introduce my new computer system to the world. Yet moving from a prototype to a functional version will be difficult, impossible for one person. I also need a partner who can leave this...hideout, unlike myself—

Christine remembered the story Mrs. Grant had told her about Erik, and a thought suddenly occurred to her. "Why do you still have to stay here now that Joe's dead?"

He looked at her in surprise. "Christine, I—"

"I know you killed him. I know the whole story of what happened, the explosion and the FBI agents and everything. Mrs. Grant told me."

"And yet you have still come here." Touched, Erik fixed his gaze on Christine's eyes. She turned away involuntarily at the thought of what was underneath his face-covering, and his elation evaporated into business-like seriousness. "I still cannot leave because, although the FBI has left this building, an investigation is still occurring in the surrounding area. Citizens are instructed to report anyone with either his face covered, or a—disfigurement—that resembles mine. Without constant surveillance, it is possible to leave and walk alone at night, but not to come in contact with any other people."

"Wow...that must be tough." For the first time, Christine felt sympathy for Erik. How terrible it must be to live constantly alone, to never see daylight, to even be forced to kill, all in order to simply stay alive! She felt a loss for words. "Um, well, thanks for the presents."

"I am glad you enjoyed my creations."

"Those were great, but I was especially thinking of the games. I've been wanting to play those forever."

"The games are mine as well. They were a little side project, to enable me to afford all of this." He gestured at the computers and electrical equipment. "I sent them to Nebula Games, the name you see on the disk, in exchange for a significant amount of money. Unfortunately, my true objective is too...interesting to be communicated through the mail."

Christine shivered nervously, wondering what kind of terrible machine this crazy genius would consider interesting. "You have no need to be nervous. You have seen the prototype before on many occasions," Erik replied, motioning to place his hand on her shoulder but deciding not to risk it.

Christine listened as Erik explained the details of his new project. At first she listened with her head down, enjoying his soothing voice but not wanting to look at his face even with the scarf. She involuntarily raised her head to look at him every time he said something that surprised her. The intervals of looking at him lasted longer and longer, until she completely stopped looking away. By the time Christine thoroughly understood what the project was about, she had grown comfortable with Erik's company. She did not tremble when she said, "All right, I'll help you with this." Afterwards, their conversation deviated from Erik's project and ventured everywhere from childhood memories (mostly happy for Christine, singularly painful for Erik) to favorite foods.

That evening, Christine demonstrated two of the romantic quirks of flighty young girls. First, they express displeasure with their love interests by going after other men. This was why she went to see Erik in the first place. Second, they develop a strange sexual tension after spending long periods with someone, especially late at night. This was why the night ended with Christine and Erik exchanging a single kiss. With her eyes closed, Christine could almost forget the true face of the person she was kissing and concentrate only on the past five hours of mesmerizing conversation.

When Christine awoke the next morning, groggy from lack of sleep, she couldn't believe how stupid she had acted. One single thought screamed in her mind the entire day: how could she have kissed anyone who wasn't Raul? She wasn't the type to cheat! This regret completely drowned out any others she may have had.

Weeks passed. Christine continued to visit Erik several times per week to work on the project. They never kissed again, but the atmosphere remained as it had been on that evening – overtly professional, but with a tension that continually increased. Raul called less and less often, and in Christine's mind he became more of an abstract memory of happiness than a real person. Yet Christine held onto the hope that Raul's Christmas visit would save their relationship and make everything right again.

Eventually Thanksgiving came. Since Christine didn't have much family of her own, the Grants invited her for Thanksgiving dinner. Five women sat around the dinner table—Christine, Meg, Meg's visiting older sister Jamie, Mrs. Grant, and Mrs. Grant's mother-in-law—with no men to keep them company. Meg's mother and grandmother fawned over Jamie, who was in college studying physics like her father, without giving Meg any praise. Later, Meg took Christine up to her room and brought out her writing notebooks. Christine thought the stories were "amazing," but wondered why almost none of them were finished. Meg's response was: "I get writer's block so easily. It's hard to get ideas in my head. It's like my world is too boring to write about," followed by a change of subject: "By the way, how's Raul?"

Raul was, at that moment, leaving the upscale New York restaurant where his family and Elena's family were spending Thanksgiving dinner together. He took Elena back to her apartment after dinner. She kissed him while they walked in the dark. He decided to lose himself in the moment and kiss her back, but immediately regretted it. In less than a month he would be with Christine, and she would be transformed in his mind from a sweet but annoying background presence to the true love that he knew she was.

**-----December 1985-----  
**

Traditional Advent calendars count the days until Christmas, but Christine's personal Advent calendar marked the days until Raul's arrival. The Saturday before her anticipated event, Christine marked off another day on her calendar before heading to the Opera Computing Christmas party. This year's party was a costume ball held at Arnav's upscale house. Christine's costume from the Halloween keg party in college wasn't appropriate, so she put together a new one: angel wings, a halo and a lacy white dress. The dress was barely modest enough not to embarrass her around her bosses, but it still turned quite a few heads as she entered the door.

Christine enjoyed herself so much that she forgot to pine after Raul. The food was delicious, the music was energizing, and the costumes were amazing. Even datelessness didn't put a damper on her enjoyment. The younger programmers actually looked decent once they showered and combed their hair, and Christine oddly enjoyed dancing with them. The crowd was dancing to Sting's "Every Breath You Take" when the party was interrupted.

The interruption started with the power appearing to go out. The room went dark and the music stopped. The power, however, had not quite gone out. The living room had an open ceiling that revealed the second and third floors, and the guests could see one small light shining on the third floor. Nor had the music completely stopped—it was replaced by a classical piece with a triumphant, dictatorial sound.

A man in full costume stepped into the third-floor light. His costume consisted of a red base almost entirely covered with metal-looking pieces adorned with sci-fi decorations. A robotic mask with angry red eyes finished it off. All together, he looked like an evil cyborg from a science-fiction movie. The stranger addressed the crowd in a booming voice:

"Greetings to all of you. You may remember a ghost who once haunted your office. You have now forgotten him, but he has _not_ forgotten you." He pulled out a thin briefcase. "My partner and I have now written the design specifications for a new software project. If you carry them out, your company will become wealthy and successful beyond your wildest dreams. You will never again depend on external sources like that imbecile Chavez for money."

He paused and his costume's eyes glowed red. "However, if you do not follow my instructions, I assure you that there _will _be _great_ consequences. Remember the User Interface design review with Chavez. I can and will do much worse." He threw the briefcase into the crowd as the third-floor light went out and the music ceased. By the time Arnav managed to fix the power, the stranger was gone—and so was Christine. No one knew that she was in her car, driving Erik back to the Opera Computing building as he discreetly replaced the robot mask with his more comfortable face scarf.

Arnav thumbed through the contents of the briefcase while Frank stood over his shoulder and the rest of the guests looked on. "I can't believe it! _This_ is what he wants us to do? This isn't some revolutionary new advance—it's just Christine's crazy proposal from last week!"


	7. Love is a Battlefield

**Chapter 7: Love is a Battlefield**

A/N: By the way, I watched the 1955 musical _Oklahoma!_ recently, and noticed that the love triangle in that movie seemed a lot like the one in POTO. _Oklahoma!_ has the sweet, happy "obvious" couple, and the semi-creepy misunderstood guy who pines for the girl. Then he has an Erik-like descent into madness...I guess it's pretty obvious why I got mad when IMDB descriptions called him "evil." If you want to see this movie, try borrowing it from the library—most rental places don't carry such old movies!

**-----December 1985-----  
**

None of the guests at the party understood what Arnav meant about Christine's project proposal; they were unaware that she had ever made one. "Christine again!" rang Carlotta's shrill voice. "What she do now?"

"Christine came to us about a week ago with a very strange idea. She calls it the Phantom Project. It allows one group of computers to monitor and control the operation of another group. I looked at the report and it's much too ambitious for a company of our size. Even with a huge company, any number of factors could make it a complete failure. Christine doesn't know what she's talking about."

Frank stroked his chin in thought. "Wait a minute...I think I have an idea what's going on. The strange computer messages, Christine's mysterious tutor, the custodian's death, the FBI investigation, and this proposal are all related. In fact, the same person may be responsible for all of them."

"Who could it be?" someone in the crowd asked.

"The FBI agents talked about a fugitive hiding in the basement of our building. They searched for two days and didn't find him, but if he could accomplish all these antics, he's a very clever fellow. He probably found some way to disappear while the agents were looking."

Frank continued: "Here's my plan. This ghost of ours may be able to hide from two men, but he can't hide from a full police raid! So we start some cursory work on this project of his to keep him appeased, while we talk to the police and tell them we have their fugitive. When everything is ready, we hold a big company-wide meeting, supposedly about how the work is progressing. No doubt that'll keep him in the building, doing whatever he does to _observe _what happens. Then we keep men at every door so he can't escape, and send a full SWAT team downstairs to find that hideout."

The entire party applauded spontaneously—all except Mrs. Grant, who shook her head and bit her lip to keep from protesting.

Back in the basement of Opera Computing, Christine was pacing in frustration. "Why did you do this? We could have come up with another way to get the project out. Now we won't get any money out of it at all, _and _you've just made it more likely for them to find you. Every little trick of yours is one more piece of evidence that you're still down here."

Erik took Christine's hands to stop her from pacing. "First of all, you know that the money was never my priority. I can make all I ever need with computer games and other smaller tasks...and I will give you some of my future profits to compensate for your loss. Showcasing this work to the world was my only objective, and at this point the only way to accomplish it is by force. Now that a fresh link to my existence has been revealed with Agent Buquet's death, it seems the investigation will continue indefinitely and I shall have to stay here for many more years. As for the last part"— he laughed scornfully—"no one ever finds me unless I _want_ him, or her, to find me. You have to trust me, Christine."

She took her hands away and shrugged resignedly. "So what do we do now?"

"This part of the project is done. It is now up to you and your co-workers to implement the design that we have put into place." He sighed. "Thank you for all your help. You have been truly wonderful."

"Then I guess I should go?"

"Not yet. We must celebrate!" Erik put on a cassette tape—classical music again, but with a much happier tone—and led Christine to the middle of the room to dance. Both partners stepped awkwardly, but seeing each other dancing like clumsy computer geeks only made them enjoy themselves more. Eventually their faces came only inches apart, and Christine whispered to Erik:

"You know, I've seen you so many times, but I've never even seen you smile or frown...and I'd like to." She took a deep breath. "If you want, you can take your scarf off now. I don't mind."

Erik slowly slipped off the thick scarf to reveal the full deformity of his face. Christine did not gasp or turn away; in fact, she didn't even feel the urge to do so. The physical features of his face seemed unimportant compared to the mind that she knew was behind it. Even the face itself, with its smile of infinite gratitude, no longer seemed so grotesque. "See? It doesn't matter to me anymore," Christine whispered as a tear ran down her companion's cheek.

"Christine, I love you," Erik replied softly. When Christine said nothing in reply, he continued: "You have been a programming partner and a friend, and have been beyond imagination in both. Now I am asking for your partnership in another way." It was his turn to take a deep breath. "Please come live here with me, and be my companion."

Christine suddenly burst out crying and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry, Erik, but I can't."

"I know this—dungeon—is no place for a beautiful young girl like you, and I do not deny that your life will be a difficult one. But we will have each other, and our love will make us forget every hardship!"

She shook her head, sobbing more. "It's not about that. The problem is...I've already got someone. His name's Raul and he lives in New York."

"Raul _Chavez_? You mean _him_?" Erik asked with angry surprise.

"Yes, and that's why I can't live with you, I can't be in love with you, I shouldn't have danced with you or kissed you or even worked on the project with you! Raul's been so good to me and now it's like I'm cheating on him!" Christine ran out of the room and rushed back upstairs in the dark. After so many visits, she could feel her way back and forth without robotic Anya's aid.

Raul arrived the next Friday evening, greeting Christine with a warm but awkward hug. He had planned out a whole evening for them—dinner at the steakhouse they were going to go to on Raul's last visit, followed by a movie at the art-house theater. The car and the dinner table were full of awkward silences. Raul and Christine both wanted to tell each other about everything that had happened in their lives, but both were somehow unable to make the conversation flow beyond two-sentence spurts.

By the time Raul paid the check, the couple hadn't said a word to each other for five minutes. Finally Raul ventured nervously: "All right, Christine, I can't take it any longer! There's something I need to tell you."

"Raul, there's something I should tell you too..."

"I don't know how to put this, but I—I kissed another woman. I don't know how it happened, but it just did. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Raul, I kissed someone else too, and I'm sorry too! But this doesn't have to mean the end—I'll take you back if you'll take me back. There's just one thing I have to know about this girl. Do you love her?"

"I never thought about it—I guess I do," Raul replied, not knowing it was true until the moment he said it. "And you? Do you love the man you kissed?"

"Oh—I don't know, maybe—yes!" Christine hadn't known it until that moment either.

Raul sighed. "Well, I guess this is goodbye, then. I'll call the airport to arrange for an earlier flight back to New York." He hugged her. "It's been wonderful, Christine."

Drifting off to sleep that night, Christine felt utterly alone.

**-----January 1986-----  
**

Out of the blue, Mrs. Grant asked Christine to go to lunch with her on the first day back after New Year's. They went to a nearly empty diner and sat in the back corner. Mrs. Grant immediately got down to business: "Christine, have you talked with, ahem, our ghost lately? How is he reacting to this new plan to track him down?"

"What new plan?"

"That's right, you both left before the bosses were explaining it at the party." She told Christine about Arnav and Frank's idea for the grand police raid. "You have to warn him next time you see him."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Grant, but I don't know when I'll see him again. You see, we sort of had a falling out. I...well, I told him about Raul."

"What a shame...well, he'll get over it eventually, and then you two can get back together." Mrs. Grant never seemed to lose her unflagging confidence in Erik and Christine's romance. "Meanwhile, we need to help with some ideas for the escape. It'll be impossible to leave the building during the raid, but since we'll know when the conference is, he can get out _before_ it starts." She paused pensively. "The problem is, where could he go without being arrested?"

"Well, considering what he did to get into all this mess, I can think of one place he can probably go safely. But it's not something he can plan from where he is. You and I will have to arrange it for him."


	8. She's a Little Runaway, and Epilogue

**Chapter 8: She's a Little Runaway (and Epilogue)**

A/N: I just finished reading Susan Kay's _Phantom_, and I'm completely amazed at what she's accomplished: a story that fits seamlessly on top of the original Leroux novel, yet is most definitely E/C! If you can't find this incredible read at the library, contact me – I might be able to help you get it.

**-----February 1986-----  
**

In the weeks leading up to the planned police raid, the "ghost" showed no sign of leaving the premises or changing his habits. His little computer mishaps increased to a greater frequency than ever before. Every time someone complained about the forced project, he found his computer unusable for a few hours, the hard drive filled with junk, or some important file deleted. Carlotta was hit the hardest, even on the days when she didn't say a word. Power outages also occurred at highly inconvenient times. To all but two of the Opera Computing employees, the fugitive was clearly oblivious to what was about to befall him.

The day of the meeting, and of the capture, arrived. The "ghost" continued to make his presence known with bits of chaos even while the police were there, seemingly sealing his fate. As Christine and the other programmers prattled on about the halfhearted efforts they'd made, the men took their positions. Twenty elite officers, trained for years in the science of catching fugitives, descended downstairs. They lit every corner of the underground tunnels with industrial-strength lighting. They brought twenty dogs trained to track the scent of a human. They brought electronic aid, too—cameras placed in every hallway they had uncovered. In two hours of this brute-force search, they accomplished what had taken the obsessive Joe twenty years. They found Erik's hideout, his computers, his books, and his electrical equipment.

Yet they did not find Erik! He had, in fact, left the building days ago.

Frustrated at this failure, the FBI detained every employee of Opera Computing for three days of questioning. No one could offer more than confused speculation. Christine and Mrs. Grant had known they'd be questioned, and had practiced their responses carefully. They said nothing to reveal that, in the final days while Erik was gone, it was Christine who had carried out the "ghostly" mischief. With all the time Christine had put into designing the new Phantom Project, it took little effort for Erik to show her how to use his prototype version. He had taught her during the happy reunion that took place when she told him about the proposed escape plan.

Although Christine had enabled Erik to leave the building unnoticed, there was still the question of where he could go without being apprehended. She had taken care of that as well, after Mrs. Grant had told her more about Erik's history. After Christine was released from questioning, she took the next flight to Washington DC, where Erik was safely waiting for her at the Soviet embassy. From there, they had the choice of living anywhere in the Communist world. Any country under the control of the Soviet Union would accept the son of such brave martyrs to the Communist cause, someone who had himself destroyed a military asset of their capitalist enemy.

**-----Epilogue: 1986-2006-----**

In 1992, the expatriates Ilya "Erik" Z—ev and Christine Z—eva were allowed to return to the United States along with their two children. Erik's cousin Anya, who had been very close with them, also came with her husband. The collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War were one small part of this decision. More important was the revelation that the accused traitor and his accomplice were the principal designers of the Phantom system, one of the American government's most valuable means of electronic surveillance.

Indeed, Erik's great project had become a reality after all. When Arnav and Frank examined the contents of Erik's computers after the raid, they saw the prototype Phantom Project software and realized that he had been using it for most of his electronic sabotage. Finally realizing the project's true potential, they and the Opera Computing programmers worked feverishly to implement it. They received a lucrative contract from the NSA for its completion and maintenance.

In this way Erik's promise came true: once Opera Computing took on his project, they never again had to worry about revenues. The government was satisfied with the Phantom Project work, and began to award Opera Computing more contracts; and as a rule, a government contractor is never lacking in money. Carlotta was not allowed to take part in those projects which were classified because she was not a citizen. She soon left the company in indignation, and has since returned to her native China.

Opera Computing moved to a newer and more desirable building immediately after receiving their first compensation from the government. The old Dulce Hogar Federal Research Facility was finally demolished, and several factories were built in its place.

Meg Grant, now Meg Grant-Johnson, published her first book six months after Erik and Christine left the country. This novel, dealing with the events at Opera Computing, and her four later ones earned her large sums of money. More important to her, though, her success has earned her lavish praise from everyone in her family. Meg's mother Adele Grant has continued as the office manager of Opera Computing, though with a much larger staff working under her. They are close friends of Christine and Erik and visit them several times a year.

Raul Chavez assumed the presidency of the Chavez Conglomerate following his brother Esteban's early retirement. He and his wife Elena live in New York City with their four children. After Erik and Christine returned to the US, Raul helped them obtain jobs in Chavez Conglomerate's massive research and development center. Many of the eccentric geniuses working there have far more unusual quirks than Erik's insistence on covering his face, so very few people have questioned him about it. Yet although Erik has by and large adapted to living in the world and being with people, he still possesses a penchant for solitude leftover from the years alone in his underground home. He and his family live in an unfriendly-looking, castle-like mansion with few neighbors. It is said that he still spends most of his free time in the cellar underneath his house, working and experimenting just as he did for years before.

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading this story! My next fic will be Les Miserables - I'd like to do a Valjean/Fantine romance. If you have any elements that you think readers would like to see in a story like that, please message me! 


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